Her Excellency Maggie De Block
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Brussels, Friday 3 May 2019 |
Copy :
His Majesty King Mohamed VI, Kingdom of Morocco
Their Majesties King Philippe and Queen Mathilde of Belgium
His Excellency Antonio Guterres, Secretary General, United Nations Organization
His Excellency Tedros Adhanom, Director general of the World Health Organization
His Excellency Jean-Claude Juncker, President of the European Commission
His Excellency Dimitris Avramopoulos Commissioner Directorate-General for Migration, Home Affairs and Citizenship
His Excellency Koen Geens, Minister of Justice of Belgium
The Honorable Madame Fatou Bensouda, Chief Prosecutor, International Criminal Court (ICC)
The Belgian Federal Police
Interpol
His Majesty King Mohamed VI, Kingdom of Morocco
Their Majesties King Philippe and Queen Mathilde of Belgium
His Excellency Antonio Guterres, Secretary General, United Nations Organization
His Excellency Tedros Adhanom, Director general of the World Health Organization
His Excellency Jean-Claude Juncker, President of the European Commission
His Excellency Dimitris Avramopoulos Commissioner Directorate-General for Migration, Home Affairs and Citizenship
His Excellency Koen Geens, Minister of Justice of Belgium
The Honorable Madame Fatou Bensouda, Chief Prosecutor, International Criminal Court (ICC)
The Belgian Federal Police
Interpol
Please find attached a report in Dutch to Police Inspector Van Vooren concerning the suspicious death of Fatouma El Morabit at Saint Pierre hospital in Brussels, on Wednesday 5 June, 2013 at age 73, following deadly injuries at both her hips by two care-givers of Soins-Chez-Soi.
I would like to submit the full story for an investigation concerning the financing of terrorism with social and health care funds. It seems that she was slowly killed by a conspiracy of people who perhaps were aiming to obtain her pension or her widow allowance.
Ever since I know Fatima (4 years), I heard her tell about her mother's bad health. I was allowed to see her mother for the first time last March, she wanted to show me her new home in which she feels comfortable receiving friends. Her mother doesn't walk or sit. She is constantly laying down particularly after falling down the stairs, immediately after moving to this new home. She broke one hip 10 years before, and now she broke the second one. Both hips got replaced with prosthetic devices. After the operation, she was receiving home care, not from a professional nurse, but from another category of carer who washes her and who refreshes her bandages daily.
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Between April and May, the health of her mother degraded and she developed diabetics, after Fatima thought she was doing the right thing if she cut the sugar off her mother's diet. She saw me doing it without being a diabetic and I was also saying no to a lot of food she gives me to make me happy. I once explained that the loss of bone mass in her mother was simply due to the wrong food.
I held my head between my hands and said “you cut off the sugar abruptly, whereas you should have done it gradually... and you probably fed her something rich in glucose – a fruit or so – after many days without sugar, and that is how you deregulated the insulin in your mother's body”. She started sobbing of guilt. I too felt guilty, explaining everything to someone who didn't go to school much, and who was 45 when she divorced and came to live with her mother in Belgium, where Fatima has her siblings living.
The degradation was quick. A doctor cleaned the arteries of both the mother's legs as those were narrowing. Just in the past three weeks, Fatima noticed changes in the way the home care service person, named Rita, started handling the fragile lady. Rita kept sending Fatima back and forth to get fresh warm water. Fatima got suspicious and saw Rita treating the old woman's body with bold moves. Fatima asked her to be gentle with her mother. The explanation she received was that Rita couldn't handle her mother alone. Fatima offered to help, but Rita said that she was going to bring a second carer in the future.
One day, Fatima's son and sister-in-law were there and they witnessed strange behavior from Rita and her colleague. They asked all the family members to leave their mother's bedroom room and they shut the door behind them, being alone with the mother only. The explanation was that they were not allowed to see everything, and in particular what was under the bandages. Fatima peeped anyway, and she thought she saw them both pushing very hard on her mother, she felt that they were doing something to her and she didn't know how to interfere or to protest.
After the carers left, the old lady, who normally doesn't speak, shouted a few times “walad el haram !” This is what Fatima told me when I told her that I was hoping her mother would live to tell it all. Otherwise Fatima would have continued to believe that the shouting was just another gibberish that her mother shouts out loud now, and then.
The next day Fatima's sister had a word with the carer, who promised to be very careful, next time. Fatima's son, who loves his grandmother dearly because she pampered him all his life, summoned his mother to send Rita away. Like in many Moroccan families, the opinion of a 21 year-old doesn't count. So the two sisters kept trusting the same carer. Again like many Moroccans, they also think that everyone is a tourist. Instead of firing Rita, Fatima thought she can change her, by being more hospitable with her and kinder.
She offered to have tea with her. She prepared so many different kinds of breads and pastries to please Rita, to help her keep her mother alive. Fatima called me to join them, as I live on 10 minutes walking distances. That was on Saturday 25 May 2013. I replied that I was busy and tired. “You just come, let me introduce you to the doctor – she meant the carer – you eat and go back to work”. I had to excuse myself as that day I was invaded by an unusually heavy fatigue through which I limited my plans to doing the most important, and I was listening to what my body was telling me.
It's only in the days after the incident with the two carers together, that they discovered that Fatima's mother was actually injured. The doctor (Madame D. Dupont – a real doctor) opened the bandages and she discovered that the skin around the prosthetic devices in the hips was deeply wounded, discolored, and actually rotting with inflammation. Dr Dupont noted that she was a lot better before, and she didn't understand where the wounds come from. Fatima didn't relate it immediately with the two carers, who she saw pushing on the prosthetic devices so hard to cause more internal wounds and the skin to break. She either forgot to explain that, or she was too shy to tell the Doctor about the violence she has seen.
On 29 May 2013 the doctor summoned the family members to call an ambulance as the woman was really in danger. She was taken to Hospital St Pierre, a university hospital. It turned out that her body was poisoned with the inflammation resulting from the wounds around the prosthetic devices. She was drip-fed antibiotics and anti-inflammatory medication in the emergency department, until they decided she needed an operation to remove the prosthetic devices.
The next morning I joined Fatima to see her mother. We went to St Pierre hospital. There we were told that the woman was transferred to Ceasar De Paepe hospital , another hospital because there were no beds available at St Pierre. “Bullshit”, I told Fatima, “what about the bed that she was in ?” When we arrived Cesar De Paepe's Geriatric Department, we couldn't visit the woman because it was to early. It was 10 AM and the visits start at 1:30 PM. We also couldn't find out about her condition, except that she was going to be transferred again to get an operation at St Pierre, where the specialist is. (St Pierre is the med-school of ULB, where attorney Inès Wouters, Lucien Leuwenkroon and André Azoulay have friends).
I didn't like it that they were driving the sick and worn-out old woman back and forth between two hospitals, lifting her up and putting her down “50 times a day”... normally it is the surgeon who has to be moved around and not the patient. I advised Fatima to change hospitals immediately and I gave her a much better addresses (Edith Cavell Hospital, St Michel, St Elizabeth) with the best selection of doctors in Belgium. “In Belgium you decide which doctor or hospital you want”, I advised.
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As we had time, I took her to Edith Cavell to learn about the process for a transfer which was nothing difficult at all. The responsible doctor at Edith Cavell explained that when the family decides to transfer the patient, the transfer is organized between the doctors under the condition that the patient is allowed to be moved around. I thought that this should not be a problem because they were planning to move Fatouma again to the same hospital where she was driven to by the ambulance the first day.
Fatima was convinced of my choice, but once back at Cesar De Paepe hospital where her sister-in-law and her sister were waiting to get in to see their mother, she couldn't convince them of changing hospitals. Her sisters thought that the decision for a transfer was up to the doctor and not to the patient... Her sisters were simply not receptive to questioning all the strange things that were happening to their mother, and they were not checking if their assumptions about the transfer were right. They were wrong. It's the patient who decides which hospital she wants to go to.
I told Fatima that the hospital where her mother was going to have an operation is known to be a slaughterhouse. “She will not come out of it alive. You have UCL hospital, Erasme hospital and St Pierre where they simply finish off people above 65. I have known 3 old people who died there for small things like a bronchitis”, I said. I saw how powerless she was in relation to her sister and her sister-in-law who are quite dominant women. “Well, you just heard them,” Fatima sighed “they don't hear me”.
I saw the devastation in her face when I used scary words like 'slaughterhouse', but that is what it is. People above the age of 65 are too expensive for the health care system in a country with rapidly aging demographics. That is one factor. Another factor is that the old woman is a Moroccan. They are not planning to invest in keeping a 73 year old Moroccan woman alive, who can only lay on her back.
Another factor is that she was receiving an allowance for widows. One additional factor is that she seems to be the target of a conspiracy in a university hospital full of incompetent student doctors. One last factor is that she was either in the process of deciding her will or she had already made the formal decision to award her house in Morocco to Fatima. With so many factors, I didn't see how this woman was going to make it in that hospital.
At 1:30 PM we went to look for the mother in the Geriatrics department at Ceasar De Paepe. We were told that she was transferred that morning to have an operation at St Pierre. I wondered why they didn't tell us that at 10 AM. I told Fatima to get a report of the health condition of her mother from the head of that department. The sisters answered “the doctor has a report”. “What's his name ?” I asked. “Oh yeah, you are right, we don't know his name”. That is where they stopped to talk with a group of nurses to find out more about their mother and her doctor. I think his name is Dr NAMIAS Bernard. I remembered the name from a phone call, and as I didn't have a pen, I remembered it sounded like Nemesis. Nemesis is the Greek god of curse. This one is possibly a Jew. http://www.stpierre-bru.be/fr/hopital/orgmed.html
The nurses wanted to find out the story and that is when I heard Fatima's sister tell the whole story in bits and pieces, given the emotion around the fear of losing their mother. “Who are these cares, what's the name of their company ?” I asked. Fatima seemed not to have the details at all. “You are letting people in your house, you don't know their names, and you don't know who they work for ?” I asked angrily. Fatima's sister – who lives at a different address with her husband and children – answered, “the company is called Soins-Chez-Soi”. “The carer's name is Rita...” said Fatima. “Rita what else ?”, I asked her and I couldn't help casting an angry look at her, as evil people are doing things to her family and she doesn't know what their names are.
Our Moroccans are almost all like Fatima. They could save themselves a lot of misery by keeping a notepad in the pockets for noting down the names of the people who cross their paths, and by getting precision about what they do and who they work for. If they could just teach them this in all the schools of Morocco, there would be fewer mafiosi operating in that country.
I found out from her sisters that Rita wasn't a doctor like Fatima was referring to all the time, she also wasn't a nurse, but a home care giver. It's a new status that the Belgian government invented to allow more jobs in the caring sector to be created given the growing number of old people in this country. The job is tough, very badly paid, and it does not require much training, so just about anyone can become a carer-giver, but nobody wants to do it. The workers are mostly immigrants.
“When you love your mother, you pay for real nurses, not for cheap carers. You are paying anyway”, I said to her. “You cannot imagine what I did for Rita, just to make her feel as part of the family... and look at what she did to my mom.” Fatima regretted. That is when I learned more about what was said during the conversation she had with the carer when she was invited to have tea with a choice of honeyed and salted breads.
Rita talked to her about Morocco and how much she was interested in going to that country. I noticed the same pattern of approach like I had with the dentist Dr Leva (annexe VII of The Godfather of Morocco) and Colette, the hairdresser.
The carer expressed an interest in how to prepare the mint tea and the goodies, and she said that she was invited to have a vacation in Marrakech this summer. That is how I knew that the carer and her helper were paid to hurt Fatima's mother. |
Rita happens to be a black African woman, yet she sounds like she is a white colonizer. The helper who Rita brought with her was reported to be a black woman also, if I got it right. “How do you know that the helper was a professional care-giver or just one of Rita's friends or just a thieve ?” I asked Fatima, just to make her become more inquisitive, and more aware of the danger of letting in two strangers in the house. What made me ask this question is that I cannot imagine an employer paying the transport and the hours of two carers to serve one client. That is why I think that Rita's colleague could be a truant.
“Give me all the paperwork, because I want to make a case of it.” I suggested. While sobbing she said “it's too late, the damage is done”. To inspire hope, I said “your mother will survive long enough to witness of all what happened to her, and only afterwards, she will be in the hands of God”.
“My sister has all the paperwork, and her mind is not with the papers right now” she apologized. So, I had a hard time collecting the data, like an invoice of the Soins-Chez-Soi company which should normally indicates the date and time of the service and an identification of the care-giver.
When I asked where the offices of Soins-Chez-Soi are, I remember hearing something like "Manège", a place somewhere in Wallonia, and I remembered that without being able to locate Manége. It appears to be in Manhay where there is a Soins-Chez-Soi company with number 0458.511.179. As Madame Fatouma El Morabit was probably assassinated slowly in 2013, the yearly balance sheet of Soins-Chez-Soi shows an increase in capital of 90 000 euro, which the notary registered in January 2014. This must be the company we are looking for:
Fatima didn't see the point of what I was trying to do. “Look”, I said, “if you don't document the case with reports from all the doctors who have seen your mother before during and after the surgery, and if something goes wrong, they could conspire to accuse you of damaging your mother, simply because you don't know the names of who was taking care of your mother neither at home nor at the hospital. In addition, the case is complex given the number of doctors that are involved in the different services of two different hospitals. You will never come out of prison, you will be paying lawyers all your life, and your son will end up alone”.
Now that last bit scared her, but it soon turned into disbelief. Later on she was able to supply the name of her mother's General Practitioner, Dr Dupont, avenue des Volontaires, n° 144, in 1040 Brussels, phone 02/735 48 45, mobile 0477 58.66.30. That was already something.
The mother was operated on Friday 31 May 2013. On 1 June, she was transferred to the infectious diseases department. I took note of the doctor's name myself ( Dr KONOPNICKI Deborah you will find her here http://www.stpierre-bru.be/fr/consult/service/cetim.html ).
We had to wear masks, robes, and gloves to get in, to see her. I accompanied Fatima a few times briefly and I noticed that the old lady wasn't served any type of food or drink at all. Her mouth was dry, and it seemed to me that they were finishing her off, simply by depriving her of everything except the Baxters with nutriment, those against dehydration and those with the medication. Just like Fatima's son, I was so suspicious of that hospital, particularly when I heard the mother was constantly being transferred between two hospitals. I couldn't get Fatima and her sisters to wake up and change hospitals quickly. That is the problem I have with all the Moroccans. When faced with fatality they tend to say “Oh, it is God's will” and “it is to late now, what happened has happened”. With that attitude I can't get them to stand up for themselves. I agree with the acknowledgment that it is God's will, but there is a difference between dying and getting killed. “Just don't talk like this, when my son is here” Fatima begged, “because it is like pouring oil on a fire.”
On 3 June the mother entered in a coma. Is it any wonder when someone doesn't get food ? Fatima stayed with her for two nights in a row, reading the Holy Quran for her. I advised her not to let anyone turn off any pumps or nothing. I received a phone call on Wednesday 5 June at about 15H00, to learn that her mother passed away. She was 73 years old.
I took my time getting to the hospital. I arrived when the body was taken over by the nurses to get washed. I didn't talk to the son, who didn't want to leave the ward at the same time like us. He still wanted to see his grandmother one more time, and he kept waiting there for her to come out. He also didn't join the prayers in the evening at his aunt's house, or have dinner. He only wanted to be alone with his grandmother in his thoughts.
On our way out of the hospital, I asked Fatima, “did you see your mother dying ? Were you with her ? Did she get the chance to say something before parting ?” Fatima shook her head. Her sister explained that they were 4 of them reading the Holy Quran the whole afternoon : Fatima, her sister, her sister-in-law, and Atika, a friend. They sat there until the nurses asked them to quit the room for a minute, like they do twice a day to give care or to clean... and from this point onwards I understood nothing about the rest of the story anymore, except that when Fatima re-entered to see her mother, she embraced her like she usually does, and her mother didn't feel the same in her arms. She took a look at her face. When noticing the frozen eyes and the mouth wide open, she couldn't prevent herself from screaming so loud that the whole department came running to that room.
I accompanied Fatima on our way home. She shed rivers of tears in the tube and on the bus to the point that everyone knew it had something to do with the Almighty Allah taking someone's life. I kept thinking about the scene with the last moments, when the 4 ladies were asked to leave the room and to come back in again a few minutes later, just to find the woman dead. It is cruel and it is not standard. The normal procedure is that when someone is dying, the nurses have to warn the family members to be present before the dying makes her last breath. That is an obligation. This is not what happened. Madame El Morabit clearly died “in the hands of the kaf'rin”, as we put it, and nobody of the family has actually seen her go. From what Fatima told me, I also had the impression that there wasn't any doctor with the nurses, to certify that someone has really died, but Fatima and her family don't know these procedures, and they accept everything.
I asked Fatima to tell me that scene again, but I didn't dare to ask her if the tubes (for the air) were still in her mother's nose and whether she was still being drip-fed, or if everything was already removed when she last saw her mother. I bet that none of the 4 ladies paid attention to these details too, nor to how long they had to stay out of their mother's room. Fatima remarked that I was exactly like her son, who also kept asking those kind of questions, and she didn't think it was good. “That is why you don't know where you were sending your mother to.” I answered. “Do you remember when I said that the St Pierre Hospital is known to be a slaughterhouse, and that anyone older than 65 is unlikely to come out of that place alive ?” She nodded saying “but you also saw how my sister necessarily wants to be in control of everything, and how she imposes her plan.”
Fatima's son was right to be suspicious. He is not planning to waste more years of his young life in a country that takes all your chances for survival away. He refuses to end up getting killed by uneducated care-givers like his grandmother. He doesn't want to be like his mother and his aunt, who didn't realize that their mother was slowly getting assassinated, simply because they are uninformed about the procedures and their rights. At no moment they tried to resist the system even though they saw that things weren't right. Instead of arguing, they tend to accept everything, and in the end they sob because they lost their mother.
The whole of Morocco is exactly like this. Nobody notices the progression of a gigantic prostitution mafia operating in their country, the looting of the government funds, the poverty and the slavery increasing, that a Zionist is ruling a Muslim State, that because of him all the Moroccans massively flee their country and never want to return living in it, and that the Europeans settle in comfortably, with their companies, never wanting to return living in Europe again... Nobody realizes that the country was actually getting colonized. Nobody is resisting the absurd system, because everyone is asleep.
Madame Fatouma El Morabit would still be alive today, had they fired Rita quickly, had they changed home care suppliers and had they placed her in a better hospital from day one. By doing these things quickly, we would have screwed with the plans of the mafia, if any. It is by changing the expected pattern that you survive the challenges better. Unfortunately, they let others take the decisions for them, and that is how you get colonized with disastrous effects on our society.
Where does the conspiracy come from ?
On 22 September 2013, Fatima called and asked about her photo's, which were taken when a R&B band gave a concert in the Church of Scientology on 13 May 2013. In that period Fatima was feeling low and she wanted to break away just once from her daily chores, which consisted of only looking after the house and her mother 24/24 hours and cooking meals for the visitors 7 days a week. I thought to help her forget by taking her with me to the concert in a place where alcohol and cigarettes are not allowed.During the concert it surprised her when she spotted me singing along with the band and knowing the lyrics, by heart. She thought I was a serious person, but I love music and I was glad that we were having a good time. |
After the concert, two teenagers – amongst which Miss Bron's daughter – were taking photos of the people with the band, they noted down the e-mail addresses on a list for sending the pictures. They asked if they could take one of Fatima and me. I couldn't refuse this to the kids. I signed up and we took a photo each. We both were wearing the veil, and we wanted to signal “participation”.
Wearing the veil and standing next to a rock band is the pinnacle of “tolerance”. It deserves to be the photo of the year with which we show that we are not xenophobes. The xenophobes are those who don't want to share prosperity classes with the Muslims, the blacks and all the rest.
I never received the pictures, and I inquired with the teenage girls during the Youth for Human Rights summit 7-9 September 2013. I was told to address the question to Agnes Bron.
So when Fatima was back from Morocco (around 22 September 2013) she called and insisted on getting her photo. That same day, I addressed an e-mail about to Agnes about these pictures (22 September at 21:39H).
The next day (23 September) at 9 AM, sharp, someone rang at my door and the person rang only once. It wasn't the postman, because he comes after 11 AM. It wasn't the bailiffs, because that is over. Everybody else phones before coming.
To me it felt like the horrible period when I stopped talking to Daniel Renson and when he began to ring my door. I didn't answer. I peeped through the window screen. All the cars looked familiar and I figured he would park his car where I can't see it, like he was doing when he knew that I didn't want to see him.
Why him ? Ringing my doorbell was the clue through which I began to see a link between the photos of Fatima , Agnes Bron, Daniel Renson and André Azoulay. The only person who saw me once in 2009 with Fatima and who knows that she lives in my neighborhood is Mr Daniel Renson.
Information about her mother and the carers is easy to find through the Belgian health care system (SIS – Social Identification System) to which all the hospitals and the pharmacies of the country are connected. My best bet is that the conspiracy happened through the through the health insurance, because I had to fight with them to get my replacement income when I was ill with pneumonia and I had to stay home during 3 months. The first month was paid by the employer who was KPN-Orange. |
In that system you can find information about the family composition and the income of every person. Perhaps Mr Azoulay (who is a terrorist according to a witness from Northern Ireland) or perhaps one of his bosses like Lucien Leuwenkroon, or some kind of boss of both and the National Bank of Belgium have access to this system. That is how he must have traced the dentist that I was going to, to request from him to destroy my smile against perks. That is how Mr Azoulay finds collaboration for doing his medical terrorism on anyone. |
As soon as I began to ask for Fatima's pictures, Mr Renson must have felt threatened and he have started getting all sorts of ideas while I didn't see any connection with the photos until I received the response from Agnes at 8:33 PM ( attachment_02), around the same moment that day and until I heard the doorbell. That is how I know that there was panic in the air.
I sensed a hesitation in her reply by Agnes Bron. She is usually very well organized and prompt, which is a discipline that Scientology stands for. This time, Agnes doesn't seem to find the pictures. “It's too long ago” she said “and I'm not sure to find the clichés. If I find them, I will print the photos for you by the next inter-religious conference (on 2 October 2013)”.
“It's too long ago”, she'said “not sure to find the clichés”, she will “print them and give them to me if I go to the conference”. Wait a minute : didn't the teenage girls ask for my e-mail address and they said they were going to send the pictures electronically ? How come Miss Bron wants to print them instead of sending by email ? How come she wants me to come to the conference whereas two weeks before she said “ I will never invite you again” (because I was reporting about Yekaa Fouti to the police ) ?
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Remember that Fatima encouraged me to finish the report and tell all to my government, because if I didn't, they wouldn't know there is any prostitution-slavery going on in Morocco. As I shared the “Godfather of Morocco” with Mr Azoulay – when I didn't know he was the godfather himself – he probably avenged Fatima by organizing to murder of her mother, but I prefer the police to check out if he is the criminal behind all this.
Only Daniel Renson saw her with me once, and the photo must have been sent from Anges Bron to Mr Renson, and then to the doctor and to the healthcare workers who took care of Fatoum El Morabit, Fatima's mother. Without that photo, the murder would have been impossible.
When realizing all this, I didn't answer Agnes immediately. For me, this woman is definitely a monster. She sent a request to confirm my participation , and I sensed that she was insisting on getting me to answer the e-mail and to come. That is why she is not sending the pictures by e-mail. She wants me to turn up on 2 October. In her e-mail, she said she needed to know the exact number of people to allow a fitting number of preparations, but I don't believe that. This would be the first interreligious conference with so much preparation. There's nothing much to prepare about coffee, tea and cookies.
Normally she would call me up. This time, it seems that she needs a written reaction from me, which she can send to the mafia, to analyze, to know my state of mind and why Fatima and I want our picture. My doubts about Miss Agnes Bron only started when she became despotic with me, concerning Mr Fouti. I sensed fear. Why does she want me to come ?
- Maybe something happened to Mr Fouti during his trip to Morocco.
- Maybe she relates that to me, and she wants to teach me a good lesson.
- Maybe the godfather delegated to her a proposal for me, to have me do my projects her way, so crime money passes through my business too, but at least I would be doing something else than investigating their behavior. Maybe by handing the photos to me, she can deny that the photos come from her, and she can destroy the clichés, and obstruct an investigation.
I didn't answer that e-mail too, until I figured out what to do. I decided to inform the police about all this, and about Fatima's mother, including the dossiers about the the dentist and the hairdresser.
In the meantime, my colleague Bart Schram called me up. He was having a lot of trouble with the Dianetics that he was trying. He was being persecuted and he told me about it. He also told me that there was a lot of anger around me and they have been trying to reach me, because I would have made unfriendly comments about Agnes Bron in a document. That is how I know that the reports which I was sending to the investors were being read by the people of the Church of Scientology in Brussels or by someone close them also in Brussels. I suspected Agnes Bron to punish me or to express her rage, and she wants me to spend a bus fare an a phone call for listening to her lies ?
Why would I care about her if she doesn't give a damn about the prostitution-slavery ?
Why would anyone want to kill Fatoum El Morabit ?
Fatima didn't have money problems, because she receives unemployment benefits (about 900 Euro / month), her mother received a widower's pension (also around 900 Euro / month or a bit more), and up until recently (in 2013) her son (21) was also receiving unemployment benefits. For unclear reasons, he was denied the financial support and he wasn't finding a job also. I think that s because of the mafia too.
I think, the mafia sought ways to stop the indirect aid from reaching me, by targeting the income of the family members of my friends. I am definitely certain that the elimination of Madame Fatouma El Morabit, the elder woman, and the elimination of her income was part of the plan.
The possible objectives are first of all to bring Fatima in financial trouble and to lead her gradually (though suspicious contacts) towards prostitution, although I am sure she will not fall in it. She is a proud woman who is not going to follow a man, give her what you want. The good thing about her is that she has very high principles to which she sticks and for this reason they will give her a hard time keeping her rights as an unemployed, and then they will target the social house in which she lives.
However, the social aid and the money of the health coverage
must have gone to somebody else !
Perhaps the police which is concerned with terrorism could find this out
Two similar examples of social aid being targeted by the financial mafia are the case of Mr Boujdaini who was asked to move his health care and pensions from Spain as a condition to get a Belgian ID card, and Miss Siam who has a hard time receiving aid from the municipal social service (OCMW)
Another example of sponsored injury is by a hairdresser named Colette Manirakiza. She runs Colette Coiffure in Audergem, and in a competition for a hair solution that I invented, she began hurting my scalp first by sectioning the hair with a rattail comb while pressing hard to cut open the scalp. Afterwards she burnt my scalp with a caustic product normally used for straightening frizzy hair, which may not touch the scalp and of which the treatment is limited between 10 to 15 minutes maximum. The injury on the scalp are also an entry point for bacteria, that may cause serious infections. The intention was to cause baldness with time. I simply stopped going to her shop, and the best would be to close it. Read the full story on WordPress.
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A very similar case of aggressions committed by a health worker who was possibly sponsored by the same horrible mafia is Dr Leva, who kept a temporary filling, like a bandage, for 6 years in my mouth, until I started having something like an allergy in the face. He also devitalized one root, through which the dentition grew slightly asymmetric between 2003 and 2005, with the aim to disfigure me. Read more about the story in "The Dentist Who Wants to Destroy My Smile", a letter to Their Majesties King Philippe and Queen Mathilde of Belgium.
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The second possible objective is related to a beautiful small house in Tangiers which she was going to inherit from her mother, because she is the favorite daughter of her mother and because her mother felt bad about marrying Fatima to her nephew, who eventually married a second wife. Fatima couldn't digest that and she avenged it with a divorce and with a move to Belgium with her sons. Someone like Mr Lucien Leuwenkroon, the owner of Immo Leuwenkroon and shareholder of Leemans Kredieten (which supplies loans for purchasing real estate abroad) will make her life tough in Belgium and in Morocco where she risks the confiscation of her mother's house through complex legal maneuvers. With her income going down drastically, which is likely to happen as a cleaner, she will not be able to pay a lawyer in Morocco, but the mafia can. That is how they win the property, for tourism purposes.
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The third possibility is when Fatima needs more income the mafia will introduce someone Moroccan who will befriend her and who will condition her to get information out of me. Fatima doesn't know anything about my projects, except the cosmetics that she tried and is happy about. They can promise Fatima the end of all her money problems if she could get some formula's from me. That is the reason why they would kill her mother. Only Fatima will never understand that the new friends that she would be making is part of the mafia who killed her mother, and that is what continues to hurt me.
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I saw this third possibility coming one day in November 2013, when she called up to meet me within the half hour at the bus stop. Ever since she came back from Morocco, her tone with me changed. She became more controlling and that signaled to me that she was up to something.
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The last clue was the shop. There is an Aldi on walking distance from the bus stop, or at worst we would go to the familiar shopping center of Woluwe. She wanted to take me to a brand new shop in Nossegem (4 or 5 kilometers). She also said that she had a friend waiting for her there who would be very happy to meet with me. “She is a studious person like you, you will like her as a friend”, she said with authority. “I am on my way to Saint-Luc and I have to be there on time. I can't come with you. I also have everything at home and I thank you for your offer to help me shop”, I said.
“ Saint-Luc ? What do you have there at Saint-Luc ?” she said as if she woke up from a sleep. “I have an office there with Internet”, I lied. “I'm glad for you, but the shopping is only one small hour, and I will pay the bus for you”, Fatima offered. Then I explained that I was not interested to meet new people (in this country - given that they could be traitors). “Who is this person you want me to meet, because I have a hard time figuring out if this is good news or bad news. You are too kind people and you don't know how they will hurt you. Did you know that your mother was actually killed by people who you thought were good people.. and you did not go to the police ?”, I didn't dare to add that she finds time for shopping in Nossegem but no time to go to the police station. “She is dead now, the police is not going to bring her back to life. They will send me back and forth with questions and I don't have time”, she said. I didn't agree with her and I excused myself when I saw she was not prepared to do the effort just to screw them back. There was something else on her mind which I found suspicious, and I left it there with her. I once bumped into her son Badr and he was very interested to so something about his grand-mother’s death, but to get to him I have to go through her. I took note of this for a later stage.
I have sent her mother's dossier in my name to the Federal Belgian Police to check if it was a murder or not, by interviewing the witnesses, by tracking down the home carers who deeply wounded the old lady, to check their accounts for corruption money, and to review the tapes with the recordings at the hospital during the last hour of Madame El Morabit's life, and to trace the picture of Fatima and me with the rock band. It is possible on the basis of the list on which I gave my e-mail ([email protected])
The money track must run up to His Excellency André Azoulay (the Advisor of His Majesty the King of Morocco) at least, or with someone in Belgium at worst. His Excellency Azoulay typically invites his collaborators to a vacation in Morocco, while making Morocco believe (through his mafia of the World Bank who produces country reports accordingly) that it has become the most preferred tourist destination in the world.
However, as I don't know for sure who takes advantage of this crime, and as there are too many women involved in this story of which some are unlikely to deal men, the money may run up to a powerful woman in Belgium, who is typically after the welfare funds of the individuals and who may have all the above atrocities on her account and more, including against the Belgian people.
The money track might also run up to Lucien Leuwenkroon the President of the Belgium-Luxembourg Chamber of Commerce in Casablanca. That would make more sense because of the export activity of tourists and tourism packages, but also warfare, humanitarian aid and other development cooperation matters. Humanitarian aid, the funds for the refugees and other development cooperation funds are typically among the target source for terrorism funding, because it does not concern the Belgian people that much, to get caught for it in Belgium.
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